


Bigfoot Worldwide: Kiwi Campers Encounter New Zealand's Own Sasquatch

by sweetcarolanne



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bigfoot - Freeform, Cryptozoology, Gen, Mythical Beings & Creatures, New Zealand, Pastiche, Sasquatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-24 09:04:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20703425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/pseuds/sweetcarolanne
Summary: Told in the style of a YouTube Bigfoot encounter story channel! A New Zealander tells of the time she and a friend encountered a creature they were sure was only the stuff of legends...DISCLAIMER: This story is fictional and nobody in the story, human or otherwise, is meant to be a depiction of a real person. However, the camping ground is based on a real place, where a close friend of the author may have heard limb-breaks and wood-knocks in the distant forest at night...





	Bigfoot Worldwide: Kiwi Campers Encounter New Zealand's Own Sasquatch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stefanyeah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stefanyeah/gifts).

> Dear Stefanyeah, I saw that you liked Cryptozoology in your requests, and I've always wanted to try writing a YouTube style Bigfoot encounter story as I'm a big fan of those! I do hope you enjoy this story <3
> 
> Many thanks to my anonymous beta.

_Hi, it’s C.J. here with another episode of Bigfoot Worldwide! Tonight’s encounter story comes from the other side of the world, all the way down in New Zealand. Not a place most of us would think Bigfoot would show up in, but apparently there is a Kiwi version of our favorite hairy cryptid, and the person who submitted this account and her best friend who was with her at the time found that out first-hand, to their initial fright and eventual amazement!_

_Anyway, be sure to hit those “like” and “subscribe” buttons. Now, on with the story!_

Hi, my name is Emma and I’m from Auckland, New Zealand. I really love your show and never miss an episode. It took me quite a while to get my courage up to send the story of my own Bigfoot encounter in to you, as my country is a small one and I was really anxious in case someone would be able to identify me. So I’d appreciate it if you only use my first name if you choose to read this on your channel, and I’ve changed the names of other people and specific places for the purpose of this story.

Three years ago my parents decided to retire and finally take the dream trip around Europe they’d saved up for since forever, and since my mother has always dreamed of experiencing a European white Christmas (the festive season happens in summer down here in the Southern Hemisphere) they decided to go in late December which meant that the usual family gathering for Christmas dinner at their house wouldn’t be going ahead. At the same time, my best friend, who I’ll call Jodie, found herself at a loose end for the Christmas period, so she and I decided to take a trip of our own and booked a peaceful little cabin in a woodland resort in the far north of the North Island. The place is called the Tui’s Nest and was, we believed, the perfect place to get away from the commercial Christmas mayhem and occupy ourselves with healthy bush walks, touring the famed macadamia orchard and listening to the melodious calls of native birds as well as eating copious amounts of our favorite holiday junk food. 

Jodie and I set off from Auckland the day before Christmas and drove northwards in my car, grateful for the warm sunny weather and clear blue skies that made our journey a fun and easy one. After almost getting lost and ending up in Kaitaia due to some badly obscured road signs, at last we found ourselves in the picturesque little Hokianga town near to where the Tui’s Nest was situated. We stopped for dinner at the region’s renowned Kit Kat Café and had a delicious Christmas Eve dinner, sitting near the open window and listening to some live folk music as we took in the magnificent harbour views and watched herons make their way around the estuary. Most of the crowd that night were locals, and everyone seemed to know everybody else. Word soon got around that we must be staying at the Tui’s Nest, and some of the locals were helpful enough to give us directions so we didn’t get lost for the second time that day!

We arrived at the Tui’s Nest just after 8 pm, and Ngaire, one of the owners, welcomed us and gave us the keys to our cabin and the customary warning about wild pigs out in the bush should we decide to take a walk the next day. Her husband Max was trying to pacify an older Australian couple, who seemed to be really cranky about something.

The old guy’s face was just about turning purple as he yelled, “We didn’t come all the way across the ditch so your little buggers could chuck rocks at our cabin all night!”

“What was that all about?” Jodie asked, and Ngaire just shrugged.

“They seem to think our sons were playing a prank on them last night,” she said. “But I know the boys were sound asleep in bed when it happened.”

We got to our cabins, and pretty soon were sound asleep ourselves. All was quiet, except for the occasional calling of a morepork (our native New Zealand owl). I must have slept for two or three hours before my eyes flew involuntarily open. Jodie had switched on her bedside light and was sitting bolt upright in her bed.

“Did you hear that?” she whispered, looking and sounding completely terrified.

I listened, and then I too heard what had woken her.

A loud, ringing knock, as if someone had taken a piece of wood and slapped it against one of the trees, echoed through the stillness of the night with the loudness of a gunshot; then a few seconds later, some distance away, another of the knocks sounded. 

“What the hell…” I started to whisper, and then a long, dissonant howl issued from the same area as the furthest knock. I froze in fright, and neither of us said a word for several minutes.

“It must be someone’s dog,” Jodie said at last, and I nodded, although that noise was far too loud for any canine to have made, and Max and Ngaire didn’t even own a dog. We both tried to fall back asleep after that, but not very successfully.

The next day was Christmas Day, which passed quite uneventfully, except for phone calls to and from family and friends, and eating massive amounts of junk food. We sat outside in the brilliant sunshine for the rest of the day, enjoying the birdsong and the warmth until it was time for more food and later, sleep. In the early hours of the evening, around six o'clock, we heard a few strange “whoop, whoop” sounds from the bush, but assumed it was Max and Ngaire’s kids yahooing around and didn’t really think about the noises until much, much later.

We were not prepared for yet another rude awakening somewhere around midnight.

Shrill screams tore through the night, coming from the open camping area a short distance away from the cabins, where a group of German tourists, all young women like ourselves, had put up their tents. Jodie and I pulled on our bathrobes, grabbed our flashlights, and raced outside to see what was going on and if we could be of any help.

The Germans’ camp site was in total disarray, and the terrified girls were huddling close to Max who had also come down to see what the fuss was all about. Silke, one of the group who we had chatted briefly with in the communal kitchen the night before, managed to tell us what had happened while the others haphazardly poured their account of events out to Max.

Silke told us that they’d heard footsteps around the tents soon after it got dark, and then someone or something had started rifling through the food they’d thoughtlessly left outside on the picnic tables earlier in the evening. Max had been trying to reassure them that it was possums that had gone after the food, but no possum could have made those heavy footfalls that had sounded like a giant blundering around the camp, or cast such a huge shadow on the side of one tent. I shone my torch towards the patch of long grass just a little way beyond the tents, and indeed it looked like something very large had crashed through there in a hurry. Moving a little closer, I was hit with a strange, lingering smell resembling rotten meat and almost gagged. I wondered if the wild pigs Ngaire had mentioned had done it, and made that stench, but the whole mess looked like it had been made by something larger than a pig, or even several pigs.

“Possums didn’t do that,” a voice said just behind me, putting my very thoughts into words. I turned, and saw Ida, the female half of the Australian couple, clad like me in a bathrobe and pointing at the flattened grass. “And they don’t make that kind of stink, either!”

“What do you think it was?” I asked, and Ida glared at the grassy area as if it had somehow offended her.

“You’ll probably think I’m talking a load of rubbish – I know my husband Bert does – but I grew up in the outback and I’ve seen and heard a few things like this before. And I heard that big bugger slapping the side of our cabin earlier tonight, too. Don’t know what you call them over here, and you might think I’m crazy for saying this, but I reckon this place has a Yowie problem!”

I was too stunned to reply. The Yowie, from what little I’d heard, was the Australian version of what many Americans call Bigfoot or Sasquatch. Although I was tempted to dismiss the whole thing as absurd, never having believed in Bigfoot or anything like that, I couldn’t help remembering a few stories from my Coromandel childhood. Old Maori legends and other stories I’d heard here and there of the ferocious “Moehau man” or “Maero.” I told myself sternly that I was being silly, and that Ida was just talking superstitious nonsense, although of course I didn’t tell her that.

The German tourists decided to leave the next day, but Jodie and I, and (after some rather heated discussion that we could overhear from our own cabin) Bert and Ida, decided to stay on. After lunch, we figured it was about time we exercised off the previous day’s junk food indulgence by going up one of the bush tracks and enjoying the area’s many natural beauties.

We set off up the track that Max told us was the easiest one for newbies to walk, keeping an eye out for wild pigs as previously warned. The day was another beautiful summer scorcher, the air full of buzzing cicadas and glorious bird calls. In the distance we could hear a rooster crowing, the sound seeming to carry for miles.

“Let’s go up a little further and see if we can get a better view,” Jodie said, and I agreed, as the terrain didn’t seem to be too difficult to navigate. We headed up the hill towards a thickly bushy area, and as we reached the top of the slope, Jodie turned to me with a strange look on her face.

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” I asked.

“Everything’s gone quiet – no birds, no insects, nothing.”

I stood still and listened, and it was true. 

Something began to rustle the bushes up ahead of us, and Jodie and I stood stock-still, hardly daring to breathe.

We could not believe what we were seeing!

A tall figure covered in reddish-brown hair was walking across the track in front of us. She – for we could clearly see her prominent breasts and heavily pregnant belly – looked to be about seven feet tall, and took huge strides across the track. Her arms were very long and seemed to reach past her knees, and her feet and hands looked massive from where we stood. She made no noise as she moved, and did not look in our direction, so we only saw her face from the side. From what I could tell, her eyes were dark brown or black and there was no hair on her face – her features were ape-like, and her skin was a brownish grey. Her head didn’t have the gorilla-like dome shape I’ve heard some of your contributors describing, but looked more like a female orangutan’s. There was no smell like the terrible stench of the previous night (I later remembered other people online claiming that it’s the big males who make that horrible smell when they get mad or nervous).

The whole encounter took only a few seconds, as the creature was moving incredibly fast; it took her about two strides to clear the path and then she disappeared into the bush again.

She was there and gone in a flash, but time seemed to stand still. It was as if we were frozen to the spot, caught up in a dream or nightmare and unable to move a muscle.

Then we ran back down the track, hearts hammering in our chests and the wind roaring in our ears. We didn’t stop till we were back in our cabin, and Jodie locked the door behind us as we collapsed on our beds, too shaken to say anything.

Later Jodie and I, like Bert and Ida, had “the talk” about whether we wanted to give up on the vacation and head back to Auckland. Jodie was all for leaving, but my fear had faded a bit and I was more curious about these creatures than anything else. In the end, we decided to stay, but didn’t go on any more bush-walks. We remained close to camp or drove to visit the nearby town for the rest of our stay at the Tui’s Nest. There were a few whoops, howls and wood-knocks over the next couple of nights, but no more close encounters, which Jodie was most grateful for!

Three years later, Jodie refuses to ever go back to the Tui’s Nest, or to go camping anywhere. I, however, remain fascinated by the creatures we heard and saw and would love an opportunity to go back and explore further if I could find someone to go with me. I don’t believe they are the flesh-eating monsters of some of the old folk tales, but I think they are wild animals and like anything in the wild, should be treated with respect and caution. I’d love to have another encounter, now that I know they’re real, and if I ever do see the “Bigfoot woman” or any of her relatives again, I’ll be sure to send the story to your channel!

_Wow, Emma! That’s an amazing story! I never knew that Bigfoot roamed the wilder parts of New Zealand, and I do hope you let us know if you decide to go Squatching and encounter them again!_

_That’s all for this week, folks! Tune in next Friday for another thrilling encounter story and don’t forget to like, subscribe and hit the bell for notifications so that you’ll never miss an episode of “Bigfoot Worldwide!”_

**Author's Note:**

> Rough Maori pronunciation guide:
> 
> Maori - Mah-oh-ree  
Tui - Two-ee  
Kaitaia - Ky-TY-uh  
Hokianga - Ho-kee-AR-nga  
Ngaire - NY-ree  
Moehau - Mo-eh-ho  
Maero - Ma-eh-ro


End file.
